


on this christmas eve, i wish i were with you

by timeladyleo



Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyleo/pseuds/timeladyleo
Summary: Arthur was good at helping. That was his job, when all else failed. He was a pretty big help.And when he couldn’t help, he didn’t know what to do.
Relationships: Carolyn Knapp-Shappey & Arthur Shappey, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey/Herc Shipwright
Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039773
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	on this christmas eve, i wish i were with you

**Author's Note:**

> this year's left me feeling a certain kind of way (aren't we all!), and, well. it's manifesting as this, which is an advent of sorts but it's hercolyn angst inspired by sad christmas songs. it won't be every single day, but fear not! i'm here to make you miserable this christmas!
> 
> if you read these - thanks, and sorry! i guess i just like it when the knapp-shappey-shipwrights are sad!
> 
> this is 'merry christmas darling'.

Arthur watched her for a long time before he made a decision. She was sat, in her usual seat, Snoopadoop on her knee, stroking her head, absently. Staring. Arthur knew he shouldn’t have been spying, but old habits died hard and this stair was perfect for watching the kitchen without being seen. 

He’d seen many looks on his mother’s face, he knew which frowns meant ‘don’t approach’ and which ones said ‘I just need a coffee then I’ll talk to you’. He wasn’t quite sure whether to file this one under ‘under no accounts speak to me’, or ‘I’m pretending I don’t want to speak to you, but I need to’. 

Arthur wasn’t good at a lot of things. He wasn’t fast at understanding jokes or instructions, his feet never seemed to be under his control, and his imagination was overactive, to say the least. He’d never be able to fly a plane or solve quantum physics, or even add up without straining his brain, and he was unlikely, now, to be a sporting legend or film star. Not that he had any real desires to be, even if sometimes it was fun to pretend. Sometimes, he held interviews with himself inside his head, answering questions about his novel, or his theorem, or his newest archaeological find. 

He knew none of that was real, though. Whatever people thought, he was pretty good at knowing the difference between being called an idiot fondly and being called stupid rudely. He was good at helping. That was his job, when all else failed. He was a pretty big help. 

And when he couldn’t help, he didn’t know what to do. 

Carolyn didn’t move from where she sat, barely twitched except to stroke Snoop. Staring. Arthur made a decision.

She didn’t even move when the stairs creaked, and that was impressive, because she always noticed. Even when she had tried not to react, when he’d run back upstairs, she’d always glanced in his direction. He’d never been sure if Dad had noticed or not. He always hoped not. 

“Mum?” he said, tentative, lingering in the doorway. Snoop’s head snapped up, her eyes looking at opposite sides of the room, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She looked between Arthur and Carolyn, something in her mind working very hard to choose who would give her the most attention. After a moment, she settled back onto Carolyn’s lap, resting her head in the crook of her elbow. 

Carolyn didn’t move. Arthur stepped forward, and tried again. “Mum? I’m putting the kettle on. Do you want something?”

“No,” she said, quietly. Then, something stirred in her, and she looked up at Arthur. “Thank you.” He pretended that she said it with a smile.

Was that a real no or not? It was so hard to tell any more. He got two mugs out, anyway, carefully avoiding any with planes or sheep, meaning he had to reach all the way into the back of the cupboard to get to the plain green one that had come in some set, a long time ago. He was just glad he hadn’t had to retire his favourite mug, the bright yellow one that shouted ‘You’re Brilliant!’ at people. Carolyn could have done with the reminder, but he didn’t know how to give it to her, except for hoping she noticed the mug. 

It was raining. It had been raining, then, too. _Pathetic fallacy_ , it was called. Arthur didn’t remember much from school, but he did remember the line of thinking he’d been led down learning that rain meant sadness: why did it have to? He was starting to understand now. It was nothing to do with the weather at all. It was the reminder. 

She didn’t blink as he set Carolyn’s tea in front of her. He sat in the chair next to her, trying to decide what to say now. He didn’t like feeling lost for words. 

“Douglas called yesterday. He wanted to know if we have a flight this week?”

Finally, Carolyn looked at him, frowning. He smiled, relived to see a more familiar look on her face. “Tell Douglas,” she said, “No. We need a new first officer.”

“What about Simon?” Arthur blinked, confused. It was getting way too hard to keep up with Carolyn’s routine hiring and sacking of first officers. They were all pretty nice, Arthur had thought, but none of them had managed to stay for more than a handful of months. None of them were a suitable replacement. 

“Didn’t like him,” Carolyn sniffed. “He was too smug.”

Arthur smiled again, trying his hardest to radiate comfort through it. Carolyn reached out for her mug, staring into it as though it was about to tell her something. “I’ll tell Douglas.” 

“Good.” 

“Mum?”

Carolyn hummed a question, and Arthur hesitated. Anything he was trying to say was getting caught, tangled up in his brain as he tried desperately to find the words to make things better. 

“It’s nearly Christmas.”

“And?”

It was a bigger question than he had been expecting, and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting, “It’s nearly Herc’s birthday.”

Carolyn’s eyes burned into him. “Yes,” she said, deliberately. But Arthur had heard it said with far more malice before, knew the difference between the angry intonation and the pretending to be one. 

“I miss him, Mum.”

“Yes.” She paused, then breathed out, her shoulders sagging. Arthur tried to smile again, but everything felt wobbly, like the whole world was shaking and there was no way to stop it, no way to stop everything crumbling like sand. He swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“He always liked the lights. And the songs.”

“The songs,” Carolyn echoed. “I always hated the singing.”

“I loved it.”

“I know.” 

Arthur found himself staring into his mug, willing the words to take shape in the steam the curled into the air. Snoop shuffled about, wagging her tail a couple of times, blinking at ghosts only she could see. 

“Can we have a cake?” Arthur asked at last, quietly. “I think he would like it if we had a cake.”

Carolyn smiled. Anyone else might have missed it, a tiny quirk of her lips, but Arthur knew his mother’s face better than anyone. “Yes,” she said. “I think he would.”

“Can I bake?”

“Absolutely not.” Carolyn shook her head, her eyes blazing with a fire that Arthur hadn’t seen for a while. He couldn’t hide his smile as he pretended to be disappointed. All that time with Douglas had counted for something after all, had at last taught him the fine art of winding people up on purpose. 

He wasn’t great at that, even after all this time. There weren’t many things he was good at, but he liked to help. And if the way to help Carolyn was to let her shoot him down, to pretend things were normal, then so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr, [sircarolyn](http://sircarolyn.tumblr.com/).


End file.
